


top secret

by coldmackerel



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: just a fun snapshot of rey meeting bb-8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5882179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldmackerel/pseuds/coldmackerel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was intuition a subprogram that droids could develop? That could be the only possible explanation for knowing, beyond all standard error, that this girl was good. She was just good. Poe likely would have agreed.</p>
<p>Oh, BB-8 was as ridiculous as Poe and no amount of mirrored learning could account for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	top secret

**Author's Note:**

> just wanted to try writing their meeting from bb-8's point of view. gotta love that personable circle.

A droid should really know better.

But fear is a healthy part of any balanced, self-preserving system. BB-8 ran the odds, evaluated the situation, and smartly came to the conclusion that doom was imminent. As a droid devoid of shoddy programming shortcuts like theatrics or drama, this was _not_ an overreaction thank you very much. No, as captive to a scavenging scoundrel, miles from home and without Poe, this was a perfectly reasonable, calculated outcome. BB-8 responded accordingly: 36% fear, 28% problem evaluation and planning, 30% neutrality, and an accidental 6% hope. Poe had never been one much for debugging.

6% hope.

Running statistics, however, can only give one an _educated_ guess at the outcome. With only a 6% error and just a bit of begging on deaf ears, the calculations seemed accurate and concurrent with realistic outcomes.

Perhaps fear was taking up more than its allotted quotient.

As usual, Poe knew best, though. Whatever biological process coded Poe’s actions was far superior and more mysterious than a droid could ever hope to fathom. Even at such odds, hope prevailed. Hope of all things. And at only 6%! Maybe debugging wasn’t all that important.

She was smaller than Poe and with a voice hardened not by leadership and great expectations, but rather by the constant wear of small hardships and a lack of kindness over the course of many years, like sand wearing down a mountain. What BB-8 suspected the girl didn’t know, though, was that she wasn’t the sand or the worn, knotted hill leftover from such wear and tear. No, she was still a mountain. Though they took separate journeys and grew separate ways, she was as much a mountain as Poe.

She was bold.

And though she looked like she was born from the sand that stretched around the abysmal dunes of Jakku, she also seemed apart from them. BB-8 wasn’t built for such things like pride or boastfulness, but perhaps if they were then they might be inclined to admit that they had a knack for processing biological lifeforms for more than their physical build. Poe called it “heart”. Poe was quite ridiculous - but ridiculous only in the kind way that humans refer to their less intuitive companions. Yes, BB-8 was quite fond of him. But perhaps a more accurate word than “heart” would be…intuition?

Physically, she was approximately 24 lbs. underweight for her height, showed symptoms of several minor vitamin deficiencies and indicated depressed levels of Dopamine and Seratonin. But otherwise, she was outwardly young and strong with a voice that commanded more than it requested. None of these were strange characteristics for the profile of a poor girl from a ruthless planet.

Mathematically, the sum of her parts was quite ordinary.

There was something there, though - something not quite mathematical and not quite statistical rooting itself deep into their core. Maybe it was just fear overriding logic or maybe it was that overactive loyalty subprogram acting up again, but BB-8 couldn’t shake the notion that there was something extraordinary about the lonely girl with a commanding voice.

She freed BB-8 from captivity and spoke.

“Where do you come from?”

Oh, no. The truth would never do. But lying was a function reserved solely for emergencies and threats. That wouldn’t do either. A censored truth was best. “ _Thank you for saving me, but that information is classified.”_

“Classified. Really? Me too. Big secret.”

The girl’s subversive humor was overly developed compared to Poe’s. Her protocols relating to manners and convention, however, failed to live up to his. Despite her wit and criticism, she reached down and popped BB-8’s damaged antennae off, working it back into a functional state with deft hands. When she reattached it, signals and transmissions were as clear and refreshing as the day Poe activated them. Fear reduced to a healthy 12%. When BB-8 refocused ocular processing, the girl appeared brighter and stronger than before. Larger than life, even. A mountain.

Oh no.

That loyalty program was proving problematic.

Was intuition a subprogram that droids could develop? That could be the only possible explanation for knowing, beyond all standard error, that this girl was good. She was just good. Poe likely would have agreed.

Oh, BB-8 was as ridiculous as Poe and no amount of mirrored learning could account for that.

“Niima Outpost is that way, stay off Kelvin Ridge. Keep away from the Sinking Fields in the north, you’ll drown in sand,” she said firmly, gesturing off into the sandy unknown. Without so much as a backward glance, the girl turned away and began slogging through the sand.

Something short-circuited in BB-8’s normal functioning, likely a lapse in critical judgment and bravery settings. That was the only explanation. Clearly. _“Please wait. I am lost out here and very afraid.”_ Besides, there was little chance of survival on one’s own. This girl could be the best chance of reuniting with Poe.

She huffed and gestured irritably. “Don’t follow me. Town is that way,” she argued, pointing more firmly in the direction of certain doom.

Self-preservation outweighs unrewarded bravery anytime. _“I would like very much to stay with you. You are very brave and kind.”_ If there was one thing that BB-8 adapted successfully, it was Poe’s insistence that flattery and kindness was always the best route to getting what one desired. And it was the truth.

“No!” The girl repeated, annoyance written clearly across her face.

Well, if she didn’t want to be responsible for BB-8’s survival, then she should not have saved them from harm. But if she were as much like Poe as BB-8 suspected, then she would not leave them. _“Please help me. I will not burden you.”_

A pause.

A decision.

True to prediction, the girl sighed even more deeply before gesturing for BB-8 to follow. That was the difference between people who become kinder from their hardships and those who let those hardships close their hearts. Despite the turmoil, those who become kinder allow their hearts to lead them on paths more adventurous and compassionate than the hardened hearts will ever follow. Poe believed that these people were the ones who could truly be counted on.

_“Thank you. You are as generous as you are kind.”_

She grumbled something under her breath, but her ears tinted just the slightest shade of pink. Perhaps it was merely a trick of the heat waves. “In the morning, you go,” she said shortly.

Relieved, BB-8 followed on her heels. _“You have done me a kindness I can only hope to repay. May I ask your name?”_

She considered it a moment. “That’s classified, I’m afraid,” she quipped, hoisting her staff onto her shoulder. When BB-8 didn’t respond immediately, she shot them a quick look over her shoulder with a slight smirk.

BB-8 was fairly sure they’d just been had.

Poe would jest quite frequently, but his jokes were of a less biting nature. In some form or another, BB-8 knew her joke was well deserved. _“I apologize for my secrecy. I will tell you my name if you wish.”_

Her smirk grew into a small smile. “It was just a joke. You’re supposed to laugh. My name’s Rey.”

_“Yes, it was an excellent joke. I have yet to hear a more humorous joke.”_

Rolling her eyes, Rey slowed her pace so that BB-8 could keep pace. “Oh, right. I’m supposed to believe that I’m the funniest person you’ve ever met?”

BB-8 fixed their gaze on Rey’s face. _“No. That was also a joke.”_

Rey’s eyes narrowed. “A comedian droid, eh? Perfect. My joke was funnier, though.”

_“Negative. Your joke contained fewer layers of development and irony. Mine was the superior jest.”_

“You think you’re very clever don’t you,” she pouted, clicking her nails against the metal of her staff. “Well, _Top Secret_ , I already know your name. You’re a BB-8 droid. Custom, by the looks of it.”

_“That is very perceptive. However, my name is not top secret.”_

Rey shrugged. “If you say so. Your owner must be very good. You’re actually quite an impressive model.”

BB-8 was not inclined to such things as flattery or vain perception, but if they were then that might have been quite an endearing compliment. Either way, some circuitry must have been knocked loose during BB-8’s imprisonment. Otherwise, there was no explanation for the warm glow and increased temperature they felt at Rey’s words. _“Thank you. My owner is quite skilled. But you too are as beautiful as your name. I feel very safe with you.”_

The conversation must have distracted her, because Rey tripped slightly on a small rock and coughed into her hand. “Uh, r-right. That’s uh…thanks? Er, yeah. Anyways.” She rubbed the back of her neck and slowed her pace to examine the barely setting sun.

BB-8 slowed accordingly and examined the overturned All Terrain Armored Transport gathering sand and rust before them. It was clearly out of commission, likely a relic of the Battle of Jakku at the end of the Galactic Civil War. Why they were stopping to examine it was a mystery.

“Come on, then,” Rey murmured, heading straight for the old relic.

BB-8 was surprised to find that the inside of the Transport had been fashioned into a small dwelling. Trinkets and all manner of discarded treasures lined the walls and shelves like a mural of her life. There was no discernible value to the items filling her home, but BB-8 suspected they had a sort of intrinsic, comforting value to the girl. Poe kept similarly worthless items in his room. When BB-8 had asked him why these items were worth keeping, he began telling the wildest stories. Each item meant something to him and was therefore priceless. It is worth knowing about humans that not being able to sell an item does not make it without value.

_“Is this your home?”_ BB-8 asked, rolling slowly around the small living space.

Rey looked almost self-conscious and BB-8 couldn’t help but wonder if anyone else had ever been in her home. “It’s not much,” she admitted.

_“It feels full of stories, like you. It is a wonderful home.”_ Aside from the occasional, expertly crafted joke, BB-8 was not programmed for insincerity. Rey’s home was a beautiful reflection of humanity.

Rey opened her mouth, closed it again, and then settled into a small, involuntary smile. “I hope that’s not another joke. Apparently I’m not very good at keeping up with your elite comedy.”

_“Do not lament. Few can.”_

Rey grinned. “That was a joke, wasn’t it?”

_“It was not. It was the truth. And so was my evaluation of your home. Thank you for inviting me inside.”_

Rey just rolled her eyes again and swung her bag up onto the table. To avoid inconveniencing her further, BB-8 rolled quietly to a corner of the room and watched her flit about, shelving tools and shuffling her belongings.

_“Do you live alone?”_

Curiosity was not a becoming feature for a droid, but it was a purely involuntary bug in BB-8’s programming. Again, this was merely a feature that Poe had acknowledged and left in willfully. He thought it was “fun” and added “personality”. BB-8 did not necessarily agree. In fact, it usually caused more trouble than it was probably worth.

Sure enough, Rey’s face fell and she tilted her head to the side in obvious discomfort. “Uh, yeah,” she said quietly. After a few moments, she scrambled to add, “but my family will come back for me. I know they will.”

BB-8 swiveled around and counted the endless tally marks scratched into the wall of her home. This number was easily computed, but far more difficult to process. There was a great sadness in the number – something that couldn’t quite be measured. What is the appropriate response to such human heartache?

_“I am…sorry. You deserve more happiness than you have been given.”_

Rey shrugged roughly and stared at an opposite wall, her back facing BB-8. “It’s fine. I can take care of myself.” As an afterthought, she sighed, “I’ve waited this long.”

_“Do you have friends?”_

Honestly? BB-8 was going to have a word with Poe about curiosity subprograms when they were reunited.

Rey turned back with a sad smile. “This isn’t exactly the kind of place for making friends, you know? Nobody helps anyone but themselves.”

BB-8 eyed her curiously (stop this at once) and whirred quietly. _“But you are not like this. And I have made a friend here.”_

Seemingly against her will, Rey’s sad smile brightened. “You’re running some seriously tampered with flattery subprograms. I feel like I’m beginning to get an idea of who your owner is as a person.”

Somehow, BB-8 did not doubt that in the slightest. In fact, that was exactly the kind of human programming that Poe relied upon most. Poe treated flattery as an art. Perhaps BB-8 was becoming an artist.

_“My owner is a great man. He is a pilot, like you are.”_

Rey put a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. “How do you know I’m a pilot?”

BB-8 swiveled around and indicated the x-wing helmet hastily stowed under the table. _“You have the helmet. Did I assume incorrectly?”_

“No, you’re not wrong.” BB-8 thought the conversation was over, but after tapping her nails for a few moments on the table, she offered them a small smile. “I can fly just about anything, you know?”

_“You do not seem like someone accustomed to failure.”_ It wasn’t the _most_ flattering thing one could say, but Rey seemed to glow under the comment. _“Your binary is very good as well.”_

“I learned from all of the old droids I used to fix for Plutt. I talk to droids probably more than I talk to people,” she admitted, settling into a small chair and dropping her head into her hand.

_“We droids provide far more enjoyable conversation anyways.”_

Rey laughed at that. While it sounded like a rusty, unused gesture, it was genuine and warm. Despite the sensitivity of BB-8’s mission, thoughts of finding ways to bring her on their journey began running traitorously around their thoughts. Leaving the lonely girl on Jakku with the sand and the endless tally marks and the traders who would not so much as talk with her felt like a crime.

Poe would think it was a crime.

“Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for tomorrow. I’ll help you find someone leaving Niima Outpost. Beyond that, you’re on your own.”

What Rey didn’t know was that the only thing more annoyingly persistent than BB-8’s overactive curiosity subprogram was their stubbornness. With only several hours to plot, BB-8 began running scenarios to convince Rey to accompany them.

_“You have done much for me already. If I can, I will repay you someday.”_

Rey didn’t seem like she believed that much. Although, BB-8 doubted that she had received many fulfilled promises in her life. “Right, sure. It’s a big galaxy and I’m a small scavenger. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t come back,” she said casually, scratching a pattern into the tabletop.

_“Do not feel small, Rey. You are filled with too much to be small.”_ For their part, BB-8 meant it. It was a logical conclusion. Poe had a galaxy of stories for the objects decorating his room. Rey had three or four times as many trinkets, so it seemed unlikely that the galaxy could contain her stories and dreams.

Rey was _not_ small.

Instead of responding, Rey beckoned BB-8 over and began fiddling with their ocular joints and fussing over their receptors. She had a distant look on her face, contemplative but peaceful. For all of BB-8’s supposed “intuition”, they could not figure what she was seeing. But the attention was comfortable and Rey seemed more at ease with her hands busy, so they remained in companionable silence.

And then the stories started.

Rey spoke long into the night, her voice growing horse from lack of use. She spun tales of survival, loneliness, family, and distant places she would visit. BB-8 enjoyed being right even at the worst of times, of course. However, being right about her stories was the most satisfying they could recall. By the time Rey even realized she had been orating for hours, the night was deep and thick and her eyelids were drooping despite her best efforts.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that. It’s been a long while since I’ve had company, you know?” She laughed to herself and ran a hand down her face tiredly. “I should sleep, though. And you likely want a reprieve from my chattering.”

Far from it, actually. Her stories brought BB-8 back to a small room in the Resistance base with a kind pilot full of adventure and dreams.

_“If you did not require rest, I would listen to your stories all night.”_

“Yes, well, unfortunately I do require rest,” she said, suddenly all business again. She seemed almost embarrassed by her sincerity the last few hours. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right around the corner if you need anything.”

_“I hope your dreams are pleasant.”_

Before Rey turned the corner, she leaned back around the wall and pointed a threatening finger. “Don’t steal anything. There’s some valuable stuff in here.”

_“I am already rich in humor. I do not require your material wealth.”_

Rey huffed out a shallow laugh. “Right. You just always have to best my jokes.”

_“I suggest you brainstorm new jokes while you rest.”_

“Oi!” Her indignation was quickly ruined by amusement. “How do you like that? This is the last time I take in cheeky droids on secret missions,” she muttered to herself as she disappeared around the partition. “I ought to sell you for parts.”

Ah, but her jokes were improving. Poe would be quite pleased when they met. Nobody enjoyed jokes quite like Poe. And perhaps it was a little grand for a droid with only a 6% capacity for hope, but BB-8 was sure they would meet. No statistics were run and no calculations analyzed.

But Rey had dreams that spanned the entire galaxy, so BB-8 was sure they would reach him. One way or another, BB-8 was leaving Jakku with the girl who was unweathered by a life of sandstorms and loneliness.

They could work on her jokes along the way.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> bb-8 killing it with the jokes.
> 
> anyways, cheers and thanks for reading.
> 
> feel free to chill with me on [tumblr](http://coldmackerel.tumblr.com).


End file.
